The hardest part of Frederick's current task was to assess and quantify the perception of pain throughout the various groups in the study. Pain is subjective, and to compensate for the wild extremes in self-reported improvements or lack thereof, study participants were put through stress tests, sleep studies, controlled exercise routines, and repeated electromyography exams. It was the last of these that caused the largest number of participants to fail to complete the program, and without a large enough sample size, Frederick struggled to meet the threshold for approval to bring this drug to market. Cindy never accepted this as an answer, thus she harangued and badgered Frederick to an extent that he seriously considered abandoning pharmaceutical research in favor of buying a few hundred acres in Iowa where he could grow corn, and maybe a beard down to his knees.
He wasn't kidding about the farming part. He really did dream about it. He had only been to Iowa once, when he was in college, the time he followed his girlfriend out to a football game. The marching band trip was to Iowa State, and he said it was so he could say that he saw her march in every single game that year. He thought it was romantic. She thought he was stalking her, and they broke up before the team went to a bowl game. Last he heard, she married the drum major right after graduation, and he was still single, fantasizing about ways to quit his job and live alone forever in the place where his longest relationship had died. He knew this probably meant he was deeply disturbed somehow, but he always managed to avoid thinking about it too hard.
Unlike all of those neuropathy patients who bailed on this drug trial, Frederick was in it for the long haul. No matter how much he wanted to quit, he knew he wouldn't. He thought about sending off another vaguely worded email to Cindy, but maybe it was time to face the dragon in her lair. He closed the lid on his laptop and tucked it under his arm. Crappy coffee in hand, he set off for the nice side of the building, where the people who interface with the public have elegant offices. He thought about it for only a quick second before dumping the bad coffee in the sink. He'd refill his cup from one of the flavored K-cups he knew were set out for the non-scientists. He deserved that much at least.
No comments:
Post a Comment